City of Apparitions
by Maya Beebop
Summary: Lira's mom takes her to meet a big fan of Lira's.  But when Lira gets stuck there overnight, things become strange, then scary as Lira fights off the inhabitants of the house while still trying to retain her sanity.  This story is set in the movie
1. By The Seaside

***Author's note***

As a matter of fact, this entire story line came from a dream I had a few nights back. Names of real people (like me) have been changed for their own protection. Otherwise, all original characters belong to me, blah blah Beetlejuice blah Lydia blah Tim Burton…you get the picture.

***

The landscape progressively changed from lush, enclosing forest to windswept seaside plains as I stared out the window.

"So tell me again why we're going up here?" I demanded of my mother. She had informed me this morning that we had been invited to visit an old house called "The Chateaux", a small bungalow situated on a cliff overlooking the frigid Atlantic in upstate Pennsylvania. An old friend of hers owned the house and felt they needed to get in touch.

"I told you, she's giving us a tour of the house because she thinks it will be a fun time for the both of us. I have to leave early, but she seemed especially excited to meet you, so you'll have to be polite while I run some errands," she explained matronly from behind the wheel.

We turned a corner and I noticed a half-split oak tree. My mom started the car up a long, empty, gravel and dirt drive leading up to a decrepit, wasted house on the precipice of the cliffs. 

"Kind of a misleading name, isn't it?" I commented. 

She shrugged and continued onward.

I sighed aloud and unbuckled my seatbelt. This was going to be no picnic. I could envision it now: teetering piles of junk looming over ever entryway, peeling wallpaper, creaking doors, and what once was a nice back veranda now gone to seed, under which lone cats took refuge with whatever wildlife they happened to have killed in the past few minutes.

We approached and although there were no cats, all of my other premonitions were correct. Stepping out of the car, I prayed silently that the inaccessible balcony over the front porch wouldn't suddenly detach and from the main structure and collapse on our heads.

My mom knocked on the thin door. Suddenly, it was flung open and we peered into the dusty darkness beyond.

A young woman, of middle height and black hair, stood greeting us. Her hair was pulled into a gravity-defying ponytail atop her head, adorned with all sorts of strange pins and berets, making her look very eccentric. She wore a dark-colored dress and copious amounts of makeup around her eyes.

"Hey!" she exclaimed. I've been waiting all morning; I thought you guys had gotten lost!" 

She sounded like she was college-age, but if she was a friend of my mother's, I knew she couldn't possible be that young.

"Well, come on in and sit down. Lemonade?"

We entered gingerly, evading towers of books and the foot of a huge bureau stuffed with leather-bound volumes. I took refuge on an under-stuffed plaid couch, drawing my knees up to my chin and wrapping my hands around my lower legs, holding them tight. I didn't really do this for security as much as I did it to ensure that some mouse didn't clamber up my pant legs.

"So…" my mom started. "Right. This is my daughter, Lira. Lira, I'd like you to meet Mrs. Deetz."

"Lydia. Call me Lydia. Mrs. Deetz is my _mother_," she laughed.

Something in the back of my mind stirred, but I pushed it away with the claim of coincidence.


	2. Into The Bonfire

Lydia's attention turned to me. "I suppose I _could_ start with silly questions like how old you are or what grade you're in, but I don't really see the point in it. Can I ask you something?"

I nodded.

"You're the author, aren't you? Your pen name is Reese Night?"

I sat up straighter. Surely my mother must have told her, because I specifically never put any personal information about myself in any of my stories. Again, I nodded.

"I've read _so_ many of your online work! Frankly, I'm impressed. Have you considered getting a short-story book deal? I know a man who would do it for you."

My eyes lit up. I _had_ thought of this in the past, but I never thought they'd do it for my time of work. Lydia was earning major points in my book.

"Well," my mother said. "I need to get going. I'll be back in a while. Lira, you behave. Don't feel bad about kicking her out, Lydia!"

She walked out and I heard the car start up and drive off.

"Are you serious?" I asked Lydia.

"Oh, yeah!" she claimed. "But back to your work. I was particularly interested with your writings having to do with fanfiction. You may not have noticed it, but word about you has gotten around. You're very highly regarded in some forum's I've visited. People are calling you the Shakespeare of the modern fanfiction."

My jaw dropped. I had some reviews of my stories, but nothing like this. She saw my expression and laughed.

"It's all true. But I really liked some of what you've done with movies. They're very well written. By the way, this house is haunted."

I did a mental double take.

"I'm sorry?"

"Oh yes. It's just that some of your work involves certain ghosts, certain apparitions. I figured a day trip here would inspire you. I specifically asked your mother to bring you along today."

A shiver ran up my spine. Thoughts were becoming clearer, bit by bit. Names, circumstances, all sorts of things were beginning to link and take shape in my mind. Again, I tried to push them away as coincidental evidence, but they wouldn't disappear.

"Listen," I started, convincing myself that this woman was a little over the edge. "I've never been around any real ghosts. I don't plan to. Truth be told, sometimes I scare myself when I write about them."

"But you don't have to worry about these ghosts. They can't hurt you. Some are rather nice; I'd love for you to meet them."

This comment cinched it. Never, in all my years of inspecting apparitions and reading and writing about them had I _ever_ head of friendly ghosts, disregarding Casper, who in my mind did not constitute a true otherworldly being. 

Lydia here was living in a dreamworld, probably a mild schizophrenic living up here in the middle of nowhere on doctor's orders. I decided it would be safer to indulge her rather than deny her visions.

"Follow me," she requested. "I'll show you."

I got up and Lydia led me deeper into the house. We stopped at an overflowing closet. Shoving aside piles of whatnot, I noted an eerily creaking door near the end of the hallway and averted my attention back to Lydia, now waist-deep in the junk. She was muttering something with her head deep in the alcove.

"Maybe _Beetlejuice_ is back there," I commented jokingly. 

"Oh no, he left awhile back. I doubt he'd be hiding back here…" she claimed seriously, standing up and straightening out her dress.

With an exasperated noise, she abandoned the closet and led me to a tearoom near the back of the house. I admired the cleanliness of this room, elegantly bedecked in wicker furniture and fine porcelain statues. The inner columns were covered in live ivy, creating a charming outdoor-garden effect. 

"Have a seat and I'll call for them"

I sat in a white wicker chair, which was covered with a soft rose-patterned cushion, convinced she was nuts. What would I do when she claimed they were floating above me or standing next to me? Probably act, I thought. Pretend to see them…

Lydia cleared her throat and spoke to the empty hallway.

"Alright, she's ready. You can come join us now. I know you're anxious to meet her."


	3. Gods of Life and Death

Suddenly, to my open-mouthed astonishment, from the very bowels of the very empty house, a troupe of people appeared. They were very visible, quite solid-looking. They arranged themselves in comfortable positions around the room.

"This is everyone, Lira. I trust they have questions for you, and vice-versa."

A young man, about seventeen years of age, approached me. He had short, chocolate-brown hair spiked up all over his head, to match his dark eyes and cut body structure. A short, wispy beard grew from his chin. 

He pulled up a chair and straddled it, letting his arms drape across the backrest.

"Wow. It's really you! Reese Night…Lydia showed us a lot of your work. We really enjoyed it. You apparently took what you knew about Beetlejuice as far as you could, given what little insight was provided by Mr. Burton. But I suggest your meeting Beetlejuice before assuming that the more 'docile' version of him you created could ever really exist. By the way, I'm Trunks, Chris Trunks. Nice to meet you."

I could only sit, my eyes wide and staring at what I saw behind his back. A mirror hung on the wall across the room. I could clearly see in it Lydia, reclining on her chair, and me, sitting tensely in my chair. But what I could _not_ see was the knot of people I knew were standing all around us; much less Chris' back, of which I knew _should_ have been visible.

He grinned. "Never seen a ghost before, have you? Funny, you seemed to have us down to a 't' in your story 'Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep'."

He inspected my face and turned around to see what I was staring at. Turning back, he chuckled and tried to hide his laughter.

"Oh yeah. I see now. Can't you talk?" he inquired, coming back to my silence.

"Y-yeah. Initial shock got to me," I claimed, hardly daring to believe that I was _not_ on an LSD trip, I was in fact talking to a "dearly departed".

"Well, it can happen. Not that it ever happened to _Lydia_." Chris smirked in her direction. Lydia however only looked away innocently, humming a tune to herself.

Another person came up to me. His ear-length, wiry dirty-blonde hair fell over his eyes as he stared right into my pupils.

"So. It's you, is it? Many congratulations on your skills. We all here enjoy your fantasies as we pass the time."

Something bothered me about him. He felt different; not as securely attached to his sanity than the others. But who was I to talk?

"Thank you," I managed, finally breaking his iron stare.

He drifted away, leaving room for the others to regale me with their favorite stories of mine, ideas for new stories of mine, and fanfiction of fanfiction of mine. Finally, Lydia told them that I might want to ask a few questions of my own for research's sake.

I began with the only words that would come out of my mouth.

"How did you all get here?"

Chris was still by my side. "Well," he began. "This place is kind of cursed for the living who don't know about the real afterlife. Marie and her husband Bill…" He motioned to a heavy-set couple sitting in a wicker loveseat. "They died in a car crash. Hit a tree right near the driveway. Tore the oak to pieces, but it did worse to their car…and them.

"Dale and Dan over there…" He gestured to a pair of adolescent twins near the door. "They fell down a mine shaft a few dozen yards away from the front door. I'm sure they'd get mad at me if I told you any more about _their_ deaths, so…"

But he was interrupted, because as soon as the boys heard their names, they instantly figured out what was going on and rushed over, clambering over Chris and me to get as close to me as possible to explain their story. One planed himself on Chris' shoulders, the other on one of my knees.

One began rambling off at an extraordinary rate. "See, it was like this. Dan said we should go exploring that day, so a'course I said yeah, cause we go everywhere together-…"

"And I said what's that over there?" Dan shot in. "So we went over and we saw a huge hole that went on fereverandeverandever and I said that it went to China and Dale bet me it didn't, so-…"

"I told him to throw a rock in and count how long it took for it to hit the bottom 'cause everyone knows it takes twelve seconds for a rock to get to China. So he did and we counted and it only took _five_ seconds so I laughed at him-…"

"And then I told him to shut up, and then he pushed me, and I tripped and grabbed his shirt and we both started falling down the hole, and everything was black and I didn't scream at all! And we fell and fell and finally I hit the bottom and my neck did something funny and that was it! I remember waking up outside the front door of Lydia's house and that's how it happened!" Dan finished.

"Nuh-_uh_, Dan! _You_ bought the farm first! I was still alive afterwards!" Dale spat at him, correcting his story. Turning back to me, he started grinning all over and went on. "So Dan went and started pushing up daisies, and I was still there, all alone in the dark. My leg was broked, my arm was twisted a funny way but didn't hurt, and something really hard was poking out of my neck. So I sat there for a long, long time, until it got dark. Then my eyes started to get dark, and _then_ I died."" He grinned immensely at this prospect, and I was feeling sick to my stomach.

Chris smiled. "Okay, guys, get down before she throws up." He looked up at me. "Everyone has their own war story."

Suddenly, I realized I had broken out in a cold sweat. He noticed.

"Oh jeez, are you alright? Maybe we should get the trash can…oh!" He realized what I was thinking and chuckled. "No wonder you're so nervous!"

"I fail to see the humor," I stated, holding my stomach and looking warily around for signs of imminent death.

"You don't have to worry about dying here. You've seen us; that's enough. Besides, you've actually thought deep into the movie's philosophy. You're in the clear."

I sighed, relaxing a little.

"Except for that giant, swinging blade of doom behind you!" someone yelled. I dove to the floor, cowering and crying a little. Manic laughter followed, along with Lydia's chastising.

"Briana! I've told you before not to do that! Can't you ever realize that when people come here, they're on edge? Your sneaking around, creaking doors and making my books ooze blood hasn't gone unnoticed today, young lady!"

Chris took my hand and lifted me to my feet. "That's just Briana. She's what we'd call the resident poltergeist." 

He noticed my tears, still lingering on my cheeks. I was whimpering a bit, thoroughly scared half to death.

"Aw, don't be scared. Trust me, none of us is going to put this curse on you this early in your life," he reassured me, wiping my face off with the back of his palm.

"Aw, did the wittle bone-bag get fwightened? Is she afwaid she's gonna die?" 

The youthful voice was right underneath me. I looked down with a grimace. 

A small girl with frizzy brown hair pulled back in a ponytail and blue eyes looked up at me. She had on a triumphant smirk and she actually levitated to look me straight in the eye.

Chris gave he a reproachful look.

"_Briana_ here was one of the first of us. Beetlejuice apparently taught her some of his less dangerous talents."

"Yeah! BJ taught me almost everything he knows! And someday he's gonna come back and he's gonna teach me the rest and let me come with him on his jobs!" she claimed.

I looked suspiciously at her. "And how did _you_ die?" I asked.

At this, her face fell and she shot me a lowering look. Drifting forward, she passed through me and went out of the room.

"What did I say? I thought out loud. Chris gave me a solemn countenance. 

"Briana…had a really bad one. She doesn't like to talk about it and prefers if we don't either."

"Oh…I see."


	4. Peeping Tom!

"Goodness, look at that weather. Lira, I don't think your mother's going to be able to get back…" Marie was staring out of the window at the heavily rising storm clouds.

"Maybe you should call her cell phone and tell her to get you tomorrow, when the weather calms down," Lydia suggested.

My mind went blank. Stay overnight…in a house I had never been to before today…among the company of a dozen ghosts…one of which is particularly skilled in freaking me out royally…

I shook my head vigorously. 

"Oh Lira, don't be a 'fraidy-cat!" Dale demanded.

"Yeah. You're not afraid of _ghosts_, are you?" Dan cried. Everyone in the room cracked up.

I laughed a little bit at his remark. Of course, what did I have to be scared of, besides Briana's wrath? And from what I could tell, a stern word from Lydia would put that girl in her place.

I nodded and let Lydia hand me the phone. Stepping out of the room, I dialed my mother and claimed that she needn't brave the storm tonight; that Lydia had invited me for the night and that she should try tomorrow evening around six if it cleared up. She sounded apprehensive, but agreed, claiming she had to bed down in a local hotel because of the terrible rain. We wished each other sweet dreams and I hung up.

"Good all around?" Lydia inquired when I reentered.

"Yeah. Good all around."

"Goody then. Let's get you to the guestroom. Ariel will have to sleep somewhere else tonight, just like everyone else." 

Lydia led me to a room off of the tearoom. It was charmingly decorated with a white-painted iron bed, topped with a twin-sized mattress and cushy, downy comforters. Lydia set some extra fluffy pillow on top and showed me the small private bathroom off to the side. She explained that dinner would be small, probably Ramen and some meat. Finally, she said there were some of her old teenage clothes in the closet and that I was welcome to rifle through and keep what I found cool.

I thanked her and she left me. Inspecting the inner parts of the bedroom, I realized I was overdue for a shower. 

Considering my position, I _should_ have been content to think that I could take one tomorrow, at home, far away from prying eyes. But my hair felt and looked filthy to me, so I began running hot water in the claw-footed tub.

Looking around for any lone wanderer, I quickly undressed and covered myself in a white towel I found under the sink. As I waited for the water to come to the right temperature, I let my ponytail down and smoothed out my hair.

Most of my features favored my father's side of the family: shoulder-length light brown hair, mud-brown eyes, tan with no burn, no acne, and little freckles. I criticized my eyebrows, obviously not approving of the care I took yesterday to shape them. Finally, I realized the water had been running hot for a few minutes and, slipping into the tub and drawing the curtain around me, I relished the warm liquid falling steadily around me.

A new bar of soap sat on the ledge. "Oh well. Bar soap is better than no shampoo," I muttered to myself, lathering up my tresses and beginning to wash them clean.

It was then that I noticed a strange shadow on the other side of the curtain. It hadn't been there when I stepped in. Suddenly it moved!

My mind raced. My worst fear had come true: someone was in the bathroom. For all I knew, it could have been that Ariel, the girl I had replaced in the room, it could have been Briana, it could even be one of the males I saw earlier. The latter scared me the most. Who knew what these people were capable of?

Shrinking against the wall-curtain, I covered what I could with a small washcloth I had brought in and prepared to fire the bar of soap at whomever dared look in.

Finally, rallying all my mother's Scottish blood in my veins, I let out a cry and flung the curtain open far enough to let fly the soap in the direction of the invader.

"Ouch! Holy Christ! What was that for?"

It had been Chris! I couldn't believe it; on top of everything else, I had to sleep in the same house as a peeping tom! That was it; I resolved to bundle up like a Russian grandmother for bed tonight!

"What in the name of all that's sacred are you doing in here?" I demanded, clutching the shower curtain closer.

"I just poked my head in _just now_ to tell you that dinner's going to be pizza. Lydia called and it'll be here in fifteen minutes. How'd you aim so fast when I was just opening the door?"

"What? But…you couldn't have…you were in the room! You were standing right next to the sink…" I looked over across the room. From where the light was coming from, he had to have been standing opposite the door, all the way on the other side of the bathroom.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I told you, I just came in; sorry for not knocking. Here's your soap, and you're letting a lake drip on the floor."

He tossed me the bar and walked out, closing the door behind him. I realized he was right; there was water all over the linoleum. Rinsing out the rest of my hair, I stepped out, dried off, and mopped up the floor.

Emerging from the steamy bathroom with half-dry hair and a hurt pride, I eyed the pile of clothes in Lydia's closet. Finally, I gave in and began to rifle through them, finally digging up a black T-shirt that was made of some kind of Spandex-like material, which hugged my body and outlined every detail of my torso, including my medium-sized chest and thin midriff. To match, I settled on a pair of olive-green cargo pants with straps and buttonholes all over them.

Tying up my hair in its ponytail, I walked out of the room playing with my hair and came face to face with a rather short but nonetheless intimidating girl, sporting glasses and fuzzy brown hair.

"I hope you enjoy my room tonight. Just make sure I have it back tomorrow. I don't like sleeping out here with all of those _cretins_. Besides, Briana keeps us up all night with her stupid pranks. I _need_ my room. Lydia promises I can sleep with her tonight. But she won't let me tomorrow."

So this was Ariel. I wondered how such a little girl who seemed so dependant could die. But, ours not to question why…

I nodded and reassured her. "Don't worry, I'm going home tomorrow. You'll have it back. Thanks, though."

She smiled and disappeared. Before long, I realized I didn't know where the dining room was. I decided not to wander down the hallway, trying doors and such, for fear of finding something like one of Briana's tricks behind a door or attracting the attention of that one ghost who had spoken to me earlier. I wasn't comfortable around him; he had a kind of aura around him that could be felt rather than seen, an unbalanced one that had the tendency to snap once in awhile.

Finally, I called out.

"Lydia? Chris? Ariel? Marie? I'm lost! Oh crap…" I mentally punished myself. I shouldn't have claimed that out loud. Now instead of meeting me by chance, any of those possibilities I had imagined earlier could come straight to me!

Which, one did.

"Lost, are we?"

He was back. That unbalanced ghost.


	5. Dangerous Symphonies

"Do you wish to know where we're retiring for dinner? I could escort you," he offered with a demonic-looking smile, extending the crook of his arm.

"Um, maybe. Who are you, anyway?" I asked.

"My name is Andrew. You can address me as such. Now, about my leading you?" This time, he took my arm and placed it in his. Leading me down the hallway, we headed towards a darker area of the house, one which I became steadily more uneasy as we went towards.

Finally, we stopped at a door. Pushing it open, Andrew revealed a dark room, furnished with a mahogany baby grand piano and black drapes over the windows. Multiple candelabra lit the room, and I saw tapestries of red amongst the black drapes.

"Um, is this the dining room?" I inquired, not sounding confident at all. This was spooking me. I couldn't imagine why we were in this remote corner of the house.

"No, this is not the dining room."

"But you said you were going to lead me to where we're all eating!"

"I never said that. I asked you if you wanted to know where Lydia planned for you to eat. Then I suggested that I escort you. But I never said I would escort you to the dining room," Andrew claimed, matter-of-factly.

At this time, I was very insecure. I felt all the life draining out of my feet, and all the color draining out of my face. I had no idea why he would take me anywhere else and honestly never planned on it. I prayed to whatever god would listen that nothing bad would happen to me here, where no one was likely to find me for several hours.

"Why so worried, Lira? You're positively pale! You look as if you've seen a-…ha. No, that old saying is fit only for less polished people, like our young friends, the Twins.

"But you do look quite upset. Here, have a seat and relax. We have plenty of time for that."

Andrew gently pushed me down into a straight-backed chair I hadn't even noticed before. Sitting in a rather ungraceful way, I stared off into space.

I was vaguely brought back to my plane of reality by the soft chords of "Fur Elise". Realizing it must have been Andrew playing, I turned my head to see his face hidden behind a sheet of music.

Now was my chance. I could sneak out and run wildly down the hallway, praying I came upon a more friendly face. Or I could sit here, without risking getting caught again by Andrew or Briana, and pray that I wouldn't be killed by this nut-job. 

_Just my luck; I might be told to stay _here_ if I die in this house._

I wanted to laugh at this, but I knew that time was running short. Buckling up my courage, I sneaked off the chair and inched towards the door. Just as my hand was about to touch the knob, I heard a whoosh of sound. Turning, I saw Andrew's hand raised above the piano and pointing in my direction.

Suddenly, I was spirited back into my chair by some unseen force and held there forcibly. I tried to call out, but the pressure holding my jaw closed was intense.

"It's rude to leave a concert during a piece, Lira. We must remember our manners."

Andrew kept playing, even though my muffled struggles were rocking the chair back and forth, knocking it against the wall. The sheet music had fallen away to reveal his peaceful countenance, eyes closed and a sinful smile playing across his lips.

"It's been so long since we've had a visitor. These uncivilized pigs around us, they want nothing to do with fine music. I must say, my proverbial heart sang with joy when I laid eyes upon you, another artist like myself.

"It's also a shame you can't sit still and enjoy the music. I would rather you do that before I need use more powerful means to quiet you.

"But then again, they say you listen more attentively when you are asleep."

I stopped moving at once. Personally, I'd have rather be awake for this, rather than be unconscious and unable to defend myself, however little I may have had to offer.

Strains of soft music swept me away as Andrew changed to a symphony of mysterious chords that seemed to be a story in and of themselves. Slowly they grew, from delicate notes to booming refrains, and I felt as if I might swoon from the incredible sound ringing in my ears.

Suddenly I heard a creaking noise, a sour note in the sea of perfection I was floating in. As Andrew went on unfazed, my eyes beheld a savior if I ever saw one: Chris was standing in the doorway, puzzled.

"Lira, why are you sitting here when there's hot food on the table? The pizza got here five minutes ago; let's go!"

He grabbed my hand, and suddenly I was free from my invisible prison. Pulling me to my feet, I remained speechless and he led me out the door and into the hallway.

I turned to catch a last glimpse of Andrew, and I caught his staring, cold eyes. I could feel them burning into my own, daring me to tell what had transpired between us.


	6. Dinner Conversation

As Chris led me onward, I realized I had no choice but to keep the events to myself. They were an abominable secret, one which felt like the very act of divulging their existence to anyone at all could damn me to the deepest level of Hell. It might have been mind control or it might have just been me, but I wasn't about to question the law, laid down by Andrew's unholy eyes.

After what seemed to be an eternity, we reached what could only be described as a room in the "earlier" part of the house. It was cluttered with what looked like hundreds of books, files, papers, and one gigantic but heavily buried hardwood table. Lydia stood attempting to clear off some space for us to eat, as I saw from the steaming cardboard pizza bow, dangerously balanced on an extensive pile of Steven King.

Lydia offered me the box and I extracted a slice of plain pizza, depositing it on a paper plate and settling in a comfy chair nearby.

She gave me a curious look and took for herself a piece of sausage pizza. Chewing thoughtfully, she finally cleared her throat and dropped the other shoe.

"So where were you?"

I swallowed, but didn't look at her. My thoughts were a million miles away, in the room with the piano.

"I took a shower."

"Chris said he found you in Andrew's room. Why were you in there? Are you alright?" Lydia seemed rather upset.

"Oh. He just…wanted to play me a piece," I returned.

"Listen," Lydia implored me. "Andrew…is a little off the deep end. He's been known to be just like Beetlejuice at times, in all his perverse glory. Don't take his more classy side to be his only personality. I'd steer clear of him if I were you."

I nodded half-heartedly, and we finished the pizza in silence.

Darkness fell early, because of the rotten weather. Suddenly smitten by drowsiness, I rose from my perch and dropped the empty plate in a trashcan nearby.

Informing Lydia of my gratitude and bidding her goodnight, I navigated a course to the tearoom, and then to my own room. I quickly changed out of the tight cargo pants and into a pair of loose, red-favoring plaid pajama pants that I found crushed at the bottom of the clothes pile. Too tired to take down my hair, I snuggled under the covers with a lone, forgotten teddy bear I had discovered in a corner.


	7. Boo

It felt as if I had only just closed my eyes when a buzzing noise stirred me from my sleep. I slowly opened them to see my entire room, completely infested with billions of crawly black insects! The creatures were everywhere; they were on the walls, the ceiling, the bed, and all over my face. I felt their little legs skittering over my skin, and I could taste them in my half-opened mouth.

I let out an ear-piercing screech, shutting my eyes to the sight and propelling all the nasty vermin out of my mouth. Through the din, I head a familiar malicious cackle.

All noise stopped. Vacuum prevailed. Cautiously, I opened one eye to see Briana floating above my chest, leaning over and grinning.

"Boo."

Losing no time, and with ninja precision, I flipped up the sides of the comforter, enveloping her in the blanket. I trussed her up like a Christmas goose until she resembled a piece of sushi.

I pinned her to the mattress and demanded an explanation.

"Why did you do that? What did I do to you? That episode earlier today was an accident! I didn't know you were that sensitive, alright?"

She struggled to escape, but no amount of whatever powers Beetlejuice bestowed on her could release her from her downy-soft prison.

"Let me go! You can't catch me! This isn't how it works!"

"Life sucks, midget. Get used to it."

"I'm _dead_, remember?"

Tired of her games, I sat on her, ensuring her capture.

"Alright! Alright! Get off, tubby! Andrew told me you were sleeping here and that I should come have some fun! You happy now?" she bellowed, still wriggling.

This was unexpected news. I had actually planned on some prank from Briana, but not one with Andrew's leave and assistance!

"Are you gonna let me go? I'll tell you how I died already, if that's what you want! Just let me out!"

My thoughts came back to her. So _that's_ what she thought I wanted. _Well_, I thought, _I might as well take advantage of blessings given._


	8. Child of Demons

"Alright, if you want to," I commented casually.

She looked up at me incredulously.

"You mean, you don't care if I do or not?" she demanded.

"Not really. I just don't want to wake up at three in the morning with two billion bugs lining my throat."

She gave me a sideways glance and looked towards the wall.

"It was my dad."

I eased off and let her lie there. What could she mean, it was her dad? What could he have to do with anything?

"Your dad?"

"Mm-hmm." Here, she sniffled. I could tell tears were coming. "I came home one day…and he was mad. Really mad. I couldn't find Mommy anywhere. He was yelling on the phone; I heard him say the word 'divorce' a lot and whenever he said it he was screaming.

"Finally he said a really bad word and hung up. Then he saw me…"

Briana shuddered. I didn't think it would be this bad.

"Briana, you don't have to say anymore…you can stop-…"

"No! I gotta tell someone! You gotta listen!" She looked up at me with a few tears flowing down her cheeks.

"He smelled really funny, too, like when fruit goes bad in the sun. It was making me lightheaded. Then he hit me, really hard. I crashed into the table and cried. He told me to shut up or he'd hit me again, but I couldn't stop crying. So I tried to crawl away but he grabbed me and…and…"

After this, I couldn't get any more out of her because she started sobbing so profusely that she couldn't get a word out. I decided to do something rather gentle and patted her on the back a bit.

But after two pats, she wiggled out of the blanket and collapsed onto me, clutching my shirt and wailing into my stomach. Thrown off balance, I slammed into the headboard and sat there while she let the Hoover Dam break in my lap.

We sat there for a good ten minutes while she finished. When she did, she looked at me through red, puffy eyes and dropped her little bad ass act for a second.

"I'm gonna go to bed now…but can I sleep in here? It's scary out there…with all the shadows and noises…"

I thought on the irony of this for a moment. A ghost scared of the dark…when it was usually _her_ that made the dark scary. Finally I nodded.

She scooted under the covers with me and I became drowsy to the rhythmic sound of her "breathing". I realized she hadn't gotten out of the habit of breathing yet like I had noticed Chris and Andrew had.

I can't remember how long it took me to fall asleep, but I know that it was when the sun was beginning to peek through the window.


	9. Bad Things Often Happen to Good People

I awoke to the hushed sounds of whispering outside my door. Briana was gone, and I rose sleepily, opening the door and promptly startling everyone outside. And by everyone, I meant _everyone_: Lydia and all the ghosts save Andrew.

"What's up? Apart from me, that is? And what time is it?" I inquired.

Everyone gave me blank, concerned looks.

"What?" I asked them. Looking to the wall clock outside, I saw that it was well past eleven in the morning.

"Holy crud, I guess I overslept. Sorry about that," I commented.

Still no one had spoken.

"Alright, what's the deal here?" I demanded, now a little ticked off.

Lydia approached me. "Lira, I just got a phone call. It was from the local hospital, and it was concerning your mother."

I was instantly wide-awake.

"Excuse me?"

"Your mother got in a car accident earlier this morning. Someone ran a red light and kept going, even after the driver's door collision they had with your mother. The police haven't caught them yet."

"Is she alright? Is she OK? Lydia, where is my mom?"

"Oh honey, I'm so sorry…"

I knew this speech. I knew it well from hundreds of soap operas, from movies and books and scripts and stories and TV shows. But I never thought it could exist in real life.

"No…no, you're wrong. She can't…no…"

But emotions are funny things. I collapsed to the ground, unable to shed a single tear from the shock now gripping my system.

"Do you want to go over there? I can drive you right now if you like."

I almost didn't register Lydia's offer. My gut felt like it was dropping thirty stories at once.

"Chris, help her into the car. I have a feeling she wants to go." Lydia knew I couldn't speak. I let Chris take my arm and help me up and into a Jeep outside.

The car ride went by quickly, and before I knew it, I was rushing through hallways and stairways, searching for my mother. I inquired at every desk, and finally one nurse knew where she was. She told me to head to E-Wing with a solemn look.

I slammed past the doors of E-Wing and stared with more disbelief at a plaque opposite the swinging doors. Only one word sealed the jagged knife of pain slipping into my heart.

"Morgue."

I read and fell to my knees again. Lydia had caught up to me.

"Oh God…they said she was in critical condition when they called…oh baby, I'm so sorry…"

Picking myself up, I disregarded the porter's demands for me to stop and I barged into the cooler.

Locking intruders out, I scanned the small doors in the wall. Finding my last name, I gave one silent prayer that it wouldn't be her, that she was alright in a white, clean bed somewhere in some anonymous hotel, waiting for six-o'clock to roll around so she could pick me up. I prayed that the police had been wrong, that they had dialed the wrong number, and that this was some other woman, some evil person who probably deserved to die or something close to it.

But as I unlocked the silver door, I heard Lydia's voice outside, along with the porter's, promising he had this happen several times a week; that no charges would be pressed and that I was just emotional.

I rolled out the gurney and, with one last hope, unfolded the sheet covering the figure below.

It was her.

My beautiful, precious mother, a few cuts on her brow and a peaceful expression across her face. Her hair was a bit messy, but her eyes were closed and she looked as if she were sleeping.

My tears came now, but not in the torrential flow that I saw come from Briana last night. They were just a steady stream, falling and bathing my mother in the last shower she would ever have.

I was barely aware of the car ride home. It was close to dusk when Lydia pulled in the driveway and led me into her house. Everyone was silent as she took me to the guestroom and left me to my thoughts.


	10. Of Facades and Facets

I remember spending a lot of time in there. After I emerged, Chris tried to console me.

"Lira…I can't say much, but-…"

"Can she stay?"

My question took me aback, but Chris instantly understood. He was silent for a minute.

"…No, Lira. It doesn't always work that way. Your mother lived a good life. It wasn't suicide; it wasn't murder. It was an accident caused by some other stupid person out there, or it may have been her time to move on. There are guidelines, Lyra. Your mom met those standards and got to skip the haunting stage and go on to the next."

"Where is that?" I asked, my eyes drying slowly.

"Honestly, none of us knows. Heaven and Hell are still mysteries to us. We don't know any more about the afterlife than you can see outright; we were told to haunt this house for a period of time and we can't do anything else or go anywhere else. Sandworms, you know."

I nodded.

"Lira…" Lydia was at my side. "I know this is a hard blow, and no one knew your mother better than you did. But now isn't the time to make rash decisions or anything like that. Grief can be bad…but regret is worse."

"You think I'm gonna kill myself, is that it?" I demanded of her.

Her silence assured me of her thoughts.

I laughed a little. "Who knows? Maybe if I committed suicide on the grounds, I'd get to stay here with all of you…"

My black humor was met with nothing but a few repressed chuckles and many doleful eyes.

"Your wish might be fulfilled, Lira. Try it and see. But remember as Lydia said: regret can be, how you teenagers say, a 'bitch'."

My eyes averted to the speaker. Lo and behold, Andrew was standing nearby with a face of stone.

"Do as you see fit. Remember that none of these people here know what you are feeling, no matter what they claim. You alone can decide one way or the other, aided by whatever foolish whims they want to fill you with. They have no control over your choice."

And he was gone.

Lydia touched my arm. "Lira, you know he's off his rocker. Don't listen to him. It doesn't have to be that way; trust me, I went through the suicidal stage and do you know how glad I am that Barbara and Adam talked me down?" She smiled.

"No."

Her eyes widened at me.

"I _don't_ know how happy you are. That's you. Your feelings, your emotions can't be read like an open book. Neither can Chris', nor Briana's, or anyone else's. You know, I learned a lot last night from Briana. Can you imagine? Me, learn anything from her?" I said blankly, staring at the wall.

"But I did. I learned that most of us sport a façade, a face we show to the world to guard our inner feelings. Because we know that wearing out heart on our shoulders is the symbol of a fool; it's a weapon for any evil force out there.

"Briana's wall is her tricks, her pranks. She makes us think she's such a little obnoxious punk with no morals or kindness. But that's wrong. She was hurt so badly in life that she learned to fight off anyone who could do that to her again. But she learned it too late, after she was dead, and she unwillingly taught herself to drive off the good people, too.

"And now, you think that I'm going to kill myself to end it all. Break my wall, one that I've worked on so hard to build throughout my life, just so I can get away from the pain? Are you kidding me? My mother is my weak spot. She was the only thing someone could take away from me to bring me to my knees. And I went to my knees, yes I did.

"But if you think one crack in the wall letting in a trickle of water is going to sunder everything I stand for, you're damn wrong. Call me cold, call me unfeeling, call me an icy, unholy bitch. But I'm going to put her death behind me because now, now I can go through life knowing that the worst _is_ over, and that there is nothing that anyone can do to pull me down again."

By now, I was glaring into Lydia's face. She was aghast, and pulled back. But I stared her down and walked past, through the veranda doors, and stood on a stone pier outside built over the crashing waves below that were breaking on the rocky cliffs.

Looking out over the water, I let my eyes drift out of focus and wander across the horizon, asking the sea why everything seemed so empty now, now that she was gone.


	11. Freefall Through Eternity

(A/N) This chapter involves some insane plot of a friend of mine's. She seems to think Andrew is the deceased reincarnation of Eric from Phantom of the Opera. I decided to humor her…for once.

Tears came now, obscuring my vision. I was vaguely aware of Lydia nearby, along with everyone else.

"Lira?" Chris tried to get my attention.

"Yeah," I returned, not looking at him but letting my tears fall to the masonry.

"It's a hard blow. You'll get through it. If you want, Lydia said you could stay here for awhile to get your sea legs…"

I nodded and let a small smile escape my stone face. Maybe everything _could_ turn out all right… It would take a long time, but I felt that my mother had to be in a better place if she was kept from haunting.

I remembered that she had problems of her own, and now they were all over. All that was left for her was to make sure I got out of school and established myself in the world. Pending as of then was a scholarship to a fine writing school on the West Coast, along with plenty of money saved up. I was almost done with high school. She set the stage, and now all I had to do was to take up the mike and perform.

Finally, I took Chris' hand and he led me away from the edge of the pier.

Suddenly, I felt the cold brush of air and a dangerous presence next to me. A disgusted sound reached my ears, and I instantly recognized it as Andrew's voice.

Before I knew what was happening, I was hanging by my left ankle from Andrew's iron grip, about a dozen yards out to sea. I looked down, to my up, and saw the frigid waves crashing against the jetties.

Andrew held me up menacingly, and I looked at his face. There was no foolish joking in those eyes. They glared down at me with a wild wisp of insanity among the glimmer of disapproval.

"Andrew! What are you doing? Bring her back!" I heard Lydia demand frantically over the din of the waves.

"Why? Let the conclusion of her life's story be a happily-ever-after? Let her become a tragic hero and rot away through the rest of her pitiful mortal life, knowing that her greatest story yet ended so _plainly_?" he yelled back.

I strained to meet his eyes again. "What are you talking about?"

"You said so yourself in your autobiography that you thought the best way to die was to die a hero's death! Cold and empty of emotion, with nothing left in you but contempt for the rest of the world. You were being honest in that story! That piece of work was your honest thought! Don't deny it!"

"It was just a _story_, Andrew! This is real life! Not one of the works of fiction I wrote! It wasn't _real_…"

"But it _was_, Reese Night! That name…you preach of façades, of faces one shows the world to hide behind…when you use one yourself! That pen name represents everything you are! Now, you don't have to hide! In death, you can become Reese Night. You can return here and write more stories, never hampered by the trifles of a mortal existence. And you shall be my muse…my angel of music…as I write symphonies throughout eternity!"

My eyes went wide as I realized he was entirely serious. The distant calls of the ghosts on the pier were washed out. Everything went into slow motion as I watched Andrews's fingers uncurl one by cruel one as he let a smile tear across his face.

"One of the most important rules in music, Lira…"

I heard his dramatic voice rise over the crash of waves and screams of others.

"You need to know when to let the symphony die."

Suddenly I was alone in empty space. Andrew was gone. I began to fall, spinning slowly to see the jagged rocks below. I could already feel the spray of the waves, the crushing blow against the stone I would receive on contact...

The sun faded. Clouds passed over. For on infinitesimal minute I prayed…but for what I don't remember.

Then I felt my fall jerked to a stop. My shoulder popped and my arm became sore. Dimly I felt pressure around my right wrist. Raising my eyes, I couldn't believe who I saw holding me up.

"B-Beetlejuice?"


	12. Back to the Beginning

"Jeez, kid, you really _did_ take a long walk off a short pier."

My eyes were round as saucers as he floated me back to solid ground, never letting go of my wrist at any point in time. As we touched down, my knees gave out and I sank to the stone, breathing hard and letting my eyes go out of focus.

I head a squeal of joy among the cheers and greetings and I turned to see Briana making a beeline for Beetlejuice. I watched as she tackled him, hugging and glomping him royal as he laughed. Finally, I saw his entire head fall off his shoulders and he caught it before it fell to the ground.

"I'm glad to see you too, kiddo. But you shouldn't make me _laugh my head off_ like that. I get such a _headache_!"

Everyone chuckled and went inside, and he finally noticed me again. Walking over while reattaching his cranium, he lifted me up and brushed me off.

"Well, you're a newbie, or you wouldn't have been falling like that. What'd you do to start pushing up daisies?"

"I-I…"

"Nah, I know you're still alive. I was just _kidding around_!" He morphed into a black-and-white striped goat and bleated at me.

I said noting; I just gaped at him.

"These are the jokes, babes! Trying to get you to laugh here!" the goat demanded of me.

I tried to humor him by smiling, but it came out as more of a grimace. "Y-you're…"

Transforming back, he finished for me, seeing as I was incapable of normal speech. "The name in Laughter from the Hereafter. The Ghost with the Most. The one and only Beetlejuice! Pleased to meet you!"

He took my hand in his and shook it vigorously. As he did, various bugs fell out of his sleeve and onto my palm.

"I must have ordered dinner to go, 'cause _there it goes_!"

He snatched them up and put on a contented face, tucking them away again.

Finally, I cracked a smile and laughed softly.

"There we go. That's what I was aiming for." He grinned, and I caught a glimpse of his putrid teeth.

"Where have you been, BJ?" Briana interrupted, perching on his forearm like a bird.

"Oh, it's a long, long story. One which we're gonna finish inside, you little mosquito. C'mon, I gotta go see Lydia. I'm gonna get it bad for not being here lately." He smirked and started in, carrying Briana on his shoulder.

Finally, turning back to me, he motioned towards the house.

"You coming?"

I took a deep breath and followed him in.

(a/n Well that's it! Story over! But be forewarned, there will be a sequel titled "Ashes to Ashes". Be ready for a new story line with old characters! == )


End file.
